


white, red & black

by kim47



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-03 23:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kim47/pseuds/kim47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The letter arrived this morning, and the first thing Rachel did was go to Donna’s desk, drop it in front of her, and stare at her beseechingly. </p><p>“What’s - oh,” Donna said, picking up the envelope and examining it, a slow smile starting on her face. “The Law School Admissions Council, hey? I wonder what could be in here...”</p>
            </blockquote>





	white, red & black

**Author's Note:**

> A very last-minute contribution to Femslash February. Unbetad because I seriously ran out of time.
> 
> I've been wanting to write this since watching 2x03, and I finally got around to it. Obviously, disregards anything past 2x08, except Rachel's actual LSAT score. And I realise that after the last couple of episodes, it's kind of unintentionally bittersweet, I didn't mean it to be!

“Are you ready?” 

Rachel stares at the pristine white envelope on the table. And then she turns and looks at Donna, perched on the other end of her sofa with a smile on her face.

“You know what we need?” Rachel asks instead of answering, leaning forward, elbows on her knees.

“More wine?” Donna suggests. 

Rachel shakes her head. Donna’s mouth curls into a smile.

“Tequila.”

“That’s the one,” Rachel says, and Donna leaps off the sofa, heading for the kitchen. 

Rachel watches her go and then looks back at the envelope on Donna’s coffee table. It arrived this morning, and the first thing she did was go to Donna’s desk, drop it in front of her, and stare at her beseechingly. 

“What’s - oh,” Donna said, picking up the envelope and examining it, a slow smile starting on her face. “The Law School Admissions Council, hey? I wonder what could be in here...” She made a show of sniffing the envelope, and then holding it up to her ear to listen. 

“Donna,” Rachel whined piteously. “I need you to open it for me. I can’t do it.” 

“What, now? C’mon, this deserves a celebration!” 

“But what if the result doesn't make me feel like celebrating?”

“Then we’ll have plenty of alcohol to drown our sorrows in,” Donna said bracingly. “But you don’t need to worry. I’ve got a good feeling about this one.” 

Against all logic, it made her feel better. Donna can’t _actually_ be omniscient, but it’s so easy to believe her when she’s confident. 

“Okay,” Rachel conceded. She straightened up and shook her head when Donna offered her the envelope back. “Hang on to it for me, so it doesn’t haunt me all day?” 

“Not a problem,” Donna said. She tucked it carefully into her handbag. “I’ll swing by your office at closing time, we’ll go to my place. Wine, take out, it’ll be awesome.” 

And it has been awesome, right up until the point where Donna pulled out the envelope and set it ceremoniously on the coffee table, announcing it was time. 

Donna returns with a bottle, lime wedges, a salt shaker, and two shot glasses, and sets them on the table. 

“One shot only,” she says, licking the skin between her thumb and forefinger and sprinkling a pinch of salt there. “More later, if we need it.” She picks up a wedge of lime.

Rachel mimics her actions and then they clink their glasses together and takes the shot. Rachel shudders only slightly around the lime; the burn in her throat and the warmth in her chest feels good. 

“ _Now_ are you ready?” Donna sounds amused, licking the edge of her mouth and missing, Rachel notices, the smudge of salt there.

“Oh, sure, it’s not like this is my life dream on the line or anything, it’s no big deal,” Rachel says. She’s aware she sounds a little hysterical, even though the alcohol’s taken the edge off her anxiety. 

“Okay, I’ve got a question for you.” Donna pours her another shot. “Were you this nervous the last time you got your LSAT score?” 

“No,” Rachel admits. She tips back the shot and shudders slightly. It’s not as good without salt and lemon. “I knew I’d bombed the exam, both times and I - ” She hesitates, embarrassed to admit it. “I cancelled my score a few days after I took the test. Most law schools look at your average LSAT score if you take the test more than once. I’d rather they see that I cancelled it than see a bad average.” 

“And this time you know you kicked ass in the exam,” Donna says, tucking her legs underneath her. She’s wearing jeans and a t-shirts, and she looks every bit as good as she does in her office clothes. “So stop worrying and open the damn letter.” 

“Right, yeah, you’re right, I can do this.” She reaches for the envelope with only slightly-trembling fingers and turns it over. Breathe, Rach, she thinks. Delaying isn’t going to change the result. You can do this.

“I can’t do this,” she blurts out. She turns to Donna and hands her the envelope. “You check.”

Donna sets the shot glass still dangling from her fingertips on the coffee table and reaches for the envelope. Their fingers brush and Rachel feels a strange, tingling thrill of anticipation race along her spine. Donna meets her eyes and grins. Her hair is falling in her face, and before Rachel knows what’s happening, Donna leans forward and brushes a kiss against her lips. That’s all it is, a quick press of lips, over almost before it begins, and then Donna’s sitting back.

“For luck,” she says, grinning. Rachel touches her lips and nods slowly. 

“Luck,” she echoes. Her eyes slide to Donna’s fingers, now sliding underneath the flap of the envelope, and her stomach tightens. This is it. 

Donna pulls out the letter and scans it quickly. Rachel tightens her grip on Donna’s hand, her heart racing.

“Oh god, is it terrible, did I fail? Just tell me, god, please just get it over with.”

Donna grins, which is answer enough in itself, and thrusts the letter at her. “Read it, you should read it,” she says.

Rachel accepts it blindly, her hand shaking. There’s too much information to process it all but her eyes swiftly find the column entitled _LSAT Score_ and she stares at the number below it.

“One seventy two,” she says faintly. “One seventy two.” She looks up. “Donna, I got a one seventy two.” 

“One seventy two, baby!” Donna says, pumping her fists in the air, her smile huge. 

It’s hard to process because it means _everything_. She’s going to go to law school, she’s going to be a _lawyer_ , she’s going to be able to prove to her dad that she’s good enough, that she can get what she wants.

“Oh my god,” she breaths, and then launches herself across the couch, throwing her arms around Donna, who laughs and hugs her back. It’s enthusiastic enough to send them tumbling off the couch, and they land on the floor in fits of laughter, buzzed with the alcohol and excitement.

Donna’s beneath her, grinning up at her, her eyes absolutely _alight_ , and without thinking Rachel leans down and kisses her, pours her gratefulness and joy into it. Donna’s lips are soft and smooth, and she parts them easily. Her fingers find Rachel’s hair, tangling in it, and her kisses are almost as good as the tequila, heady and intoxicating. 

She pulls back when she has to breathe, and the minute they look at each other they start giggling again. 

“Someone’s happy,” Donna teases. One of her hands is on Rachel’s face, her fingers trailing down her cheek. 

“Never been happier,” Rachel says. She braces herself on one elbow and reaches out with her opposite hand, touching Donna’s lips with her thumb. Donna smiles, and then licks it, and Rachel laughs again.

“And I’m happy for you, Rach,” Donna says, with such sincerity that there’s nothing to do but kiss her again. She gets lost in it this time, unaware of everything except Donna’s lips and tongue, and the hand sliding around her back, and the other curling around her neck. It feels so good and so _easy_. For once she’s not worrying about what this means, whether she should stop, what happens next. It feels safe and dangerous all at once. It feels perfect.

They end up on their sides, legs slotted together, trading long, slow kisses that fade into brief, smiling pecks, and then Donna says,

“Fun as this is, my hips are not going to thank me tomorrow for this. I’m made for eight hundred thread count Egyptian cotton, not hardwood floors.”

Rachel laughs against the side of her neck, and then pushes herself up, and then pulls Donna up after her. They end up a few inches away from each other, both grinning, and then they’re making out again without a second thought.

It’s different again this time; hotter and deeper, with an edge of desperation to it, and while she was previously just content to kiss, Rachel suddenly wants to get all Donna’s clothes off and _touch_. 

“You know,” Donna murmurs between kisses. Her hand slides around to Rachel’s collar bones, and then down across her breast, her thumb rubbing against her nipple through her bra and shirt. Just the suggestion of it makes Rachel moan, and she pulls Donna closer with an arm around her waist, burying her face in her neck. “I have a perfectly serviceable bed. It’s not even that far away.”

“Mm,” is all Rachel manages, and Donna laughs. She takes her hand and leads her through the living room and down the hall to her bedroom. She wasn’t kidding about the bed, although serviceable hardly does it justice. It’s huge and looks amazingly comfortable, a deep red comforter spread across it, along with what appear to be at least a hundred cushions.

Rachel hops up onto it, sinking back against the cushions with a contented hum. Donna kisses her once, says “Won’t be a minute,” and slips off to the bathroom. Rachel’s still feeling pleasantly buzzed by the alcohol, but her head is clearer than it was and god, she’s happy. 

When Donna returns a moment later, she’s lost the jeans and Rachel doesn’t even pretend not to stare at her legs. Her shirt ends just above her black lace panties, and her legs are long and gorgeous. Donna smirks and climbs next to her. She pushes Rachel down until she’s lying flat on her back.

Rachel reaches up and runs her fingers along the hem of Donna’s t-shirt, pushing it up so she can touch the warm skin of her stomach. Maybe she’ll taste it later.

“And here I swore I’d never sleep with another lawyer,” Donna teases, nipping at Rachel’s neck. Rachel spreads her legs, and Donna settles comfortably between them.

“Not a lawyer yet,” Rachel says, grinning. Donna starts undoing her shirt buttons. She’s got a determined, slightly wicked look in her eyes, and it makes Rachel shiver. This isn’t how she thought tonight would go, but she’s not complaining for a second. 

“Well, in that case...” 

She makes quick work of Rachel’s clothes and the next thing Rachel knows she’s gripping the sheets too hard, her thighs slung over Donna’s shoulders, and Donna absolutely goes to town. It doesn’t surprise her that Donna is incredible with her mouth, and it’s been way, way too long since she got laid because hardly five minutes later she’s coming, biting her lip almost hard enough to breathe, her fingers tangled in Donna’s hair. 

When she slumps back against the sheets, Donna crawls up her body, a cocky, satisfied smile on her face. 

“Good?” she asks, as if she doesn’t know the answer, and then kisses Rachel before she can give it, her lips wet and slick.

When they finally separate, she trails her fingers across Donna’s cheek and frames her face with her hands. “Thank you,” she says, and Donna quirks an eyebrow at her. “No, not for _that_ ,” Rachel amends, rolling her eyes but unable to keep the smile off her face. “Not that I didn’t appreciate it. No, for...”

She trails off, unsure of how to phrase it, how to thank Donna for being, well, _Donna_ , and everything Rachel needed tonight. 

“You’re welcome,” Donna says, uncharacteristically serious for a moment. “You deserve it, Rach. All of it.” 

And the only thing to do is lean up and kiss her again, keep kissing her as she flips them over, pinning Donna underneath her and then sliding her hands under her shirt. 

“And now,” she says, sliding down to kiss the soft skin of Donna’s stomach, “it’s my turn.”


End file.
